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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26684455">the strange past lives of neil josten</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiraethia/pseuds/hiraethia'>hiraethia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>something to believe in (buzzfeed unsolved inspired) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>All For The Game - Nora Sakavic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aaron as Brave Camerman, Amnesia, Andrew as Shane, Angst and Humor, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Kevin as Ryan, M/M, Neil as Neil, Past Character Death, Reincarnation, Renee as Father Thomas, Strangers to Lovers, Supernatural Elements, additional warnings per chapter, buzzfeed unsolved au, vague hand wavey things about spirits and all that jazz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:34:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,758</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26684455</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiraethia/pseuds/hiraethia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"You are a fluke. A glitch in the system."</p><p>"Well, that's no way to talk to the person who's getting you views, is it now?"</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>(or the one where neil wakes up with only nightmares that feel too much like memories and a mark across his throat that looks a little too much like a scar -</p><p>but maybe the surly blonde and his chaotic best friend on the internet can help him figure it out).</p><p>[edit: ON INDEFINITE HIATUS]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kevin Day &amp; Andrew Minyard, Matt Boyd &amp; Neil Josten, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>something to believe in (buzzfeed unsolved inspired) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1131704</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>80</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>323</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello all!!!! welcome back to the buzzfeed unsolved express. this is the sequel to the original fic, 'the haunted walls of the wesninski house' and will definitely make a lot more sense if you've read that one. </p><p>this will be in neil's pov this time!!! but worry not there is still plenty of the unsolved boys to go around. lots of fun stuff to come. you will probably have to commit some suspension of disbelief for this one bc i honestly just wanna vibe with this. this is all in good fun and for the sake of a story so pls just go along with it :)</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>neil wakes up from a year-long nap.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Neil Josten was dead.</p><p> </p><p>Or, more accurately, he was supposed to be.</p><p> </p><p>It was what the doctors told him when he woke up. That he’d been in a coma for about a year. That he’d been in an accident that should’ve cost him his life, but didn’t. </p><p> </p><p>That it was normal if he didn’t remember things right away. </p><p> </p><p>(It was the farthest thing from normal. Neil didn’t know who he was or where he was, or why there was this jagged line across his throat that didn’t really look like a birth mark at all, or why he even woke up in the first place when he was supposed to be <em> dead - </em> )</p><p> </p><p>But days kept going by, then weeks. Neil’s mind was a blank canvas, painted only by careful stories told to him by the man who called himself Matt, the man who he’d supposedly been living with since they were kids. </p><p> </p><p>Stories, like how he was way too picky about his foods and only ate strawberries when they were a certain shade of red. How he liked to run his mouth, much too often for someone who didn’t know how to finish a fight (instead, Matt was the one who would finish them for him). How he majored in math in college, because he liked things with only one correct answer, because he’d had more than enough of maybes and almosts and what-ifs.</p><p> </p><p>Stories, like how he was practically Matt’s little brother.</p><p> </p><p>Yet the one person who taught him the most, showed him what real bravery looked like - Neil couldn’t remember who he was at all.</p><p> </p><p>He started getting used to a semi-regular life again about a month after waking up. Well, as used to as he could get to the feeling of shattered bones knitting together, literally and figuratively. </p><p> </p><p>Neil was curled up on the couch in his and Matt’s apartment, staring blankly at the wall when the front door swung open. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” Matt said, dropping a bag of takeout onto the table. “You up to anything?”</p><p> </p><p>Neil shrugged. The fried rice Matt plopped into his lap smelled delicious, but the thought of eating it made his stomach twist and churn. Setting aside the plate, Neil almost instinctively burrowed against Matt’s side as soon as he sat down. Chest vibrating with his laugh, Matt threw an arm around Neil and tucked him closer.</p><p> </p><p>(Matt’s warmth was all-encompassing, growing gently around broken and metal-infused bones like ivy sprawling toward sunlight).</p><p> </p><p>((But cold seemed to be all Neil could feel, ever since he woke up)).</p><p> </p><p>“Did you get any sleep last night?” Neil didn’t know how much time had passed until Matt spoke up again. He opened his eyes - when had he started drifting off? - and smothered a quiet noise into his friend’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” he muttered. </p><p> </p><p>Matt sighed sadly, rubbing his shoulder. “More nightmares?”</p><p> </p><p>Neil hadn’t told Matt the intricate and intimate details of the many, many nightmares he’d been having since waking up and returning home. About how, more often than not, he dreamed of a man with a cleaver and knife-carved smile. How he, for some reason, knew what it felt like to have a dagger sliced across his throat. How there was always a boy whose face he could never see quite clearly, a boy whose only recognizable features were his eyes: too blue and too familiar.</p><p> </p><p>The only reason Matt knew about them was because he had to talk Neil down multiple nights, after he’d woken up screaming, hands clutched around the strange mark on his throat that hadn’t been there from - <em> before</em>. It only served to make him feel even worse - almost dying, not remembering his friend, <em> and </em>burdening him with trauma he couldn’t even remember.</p><p> </p><p>“Have you thought about talking to someone?” Matt’s voice tugged him out of his spiraling thoughts again, and Neil hummed.</p><p> </p><p>“‘M talking to you,” he mumbled after a long while, when it became clear Matt wouldn’t take his half-assed silences for an answer.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m just saying maybe someone professional could help,” Matt said softly. “Therapy helped me so much, especially in college. And you’ve been through some pretty insane shit this past year.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s why I don’t want to talk about it,” Neil said. “I don’t even remember what happened.” <em> Or who I was before</em>, he didn’t add.</p><p> </p><p>Matt didn’t push him - he just poked and prodded him occasionally until Neil got annoyed enough to try putting an effort into getting his shit together.</p><p> </p><p>But that night, he let Neil be. He only asked him to at least take a few bites of the fried rice because he paid good money for it. Neil scoffed but obliged, trying not to make a face at how oily it felt in his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually the sun slipped away, leaving behind only voids and yesterdays. At some point Neil had dozed off, only to come to with Matt still in the same position, watching something on his phone.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s that?” Neil groggily asked, forcing himself to sit up. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, man. We used to <em> binge watch </em>these together,” Matt said, grinning. “This show’s actually the best thing on Youtube right now.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh?” Neil leaned closer to look over Matt’s shoulder as his friend typed rapidly into his keyboard.  </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. You would be sick of studying for math finals, and I’d drag you out to watch a whole season with me,” Matt said. <em> Another paint stroke on a fraying canvas</em>. “They released this insane video a while ago that basically proved ghosts are real. Actually - let me just show you.”</p><p> </p><p>He clicked on the first video that popped up, shifting so that Neil could see better.</p><p> </p><p>On screen were two men in a dimly lit living room. One was a tall, dark-haired man, hands clasped together over a file on his lap. The other was a much shorter blonde, face strangely blank as he gave the camera a surprisingly piercing stare.</p><p> </p><p>The first man turned, and it felt like he was staring right at Neil with his dark green eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Then, he started speaking.</p><p> </p><p>“This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved,” he said, “we investigate the infamous Wesninski House in Baltimore, Maryland as part of our ongoing investigation into the question: are ghosts real?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>neil makes a decision.</p><p>warnings - some mentions of violence / body horror (?? i think that's what it's called) but there are no graphic descriptions</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>happy halloween!! stay safe, don't party, watch some horror movies or something :)</p><p>just a note yall - i'm trying to retain as many of neil's canon character qualities as i can, but he's definitely going to be different just on the basis that shithead nathan wesninski is dead already (and also mary). so he has an entirely different family and backstory (that will be revealed later on). so just keep that in mind! he's had a bit of a better start at life</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>So apparently, ghosts <em> were </em>real. According to Andrew Minyard and Kevin Day’s extremely scientific experiments that involved a lot of cursing and taunting. </p><p> </p><p>Neil stared blankly at Matt’s laptop screen when the video finally ended, frowning slightly. He didn’t know how he felt about that. Granted, he didn’t know if his past-self, his <em> before-</em>self, was a skeptic or believer. Did that even matter? He had no idea how he felt now and he hated that feeling, and maybe that was what Matt had been talking about when he said Neil had apparently majored in math -</p><p> </p><p>“ - to Neil. Buddy? You good?” Matt’s voice filtered in through his scrambled thoughts. Blinking, Neil glanced toward his friend, who looked only mildly concerned. That was an improvement, at least.</p><p> </p><p>“Huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“I know, it’s crazy, isn’t it?” Matt raised his eyebrows, before patting Neil’s head. “I just wanted to make sure you were feeling okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine,” Neil said automatically. “Why wouldn’t I be?”</p><p> </p><p>Rolling his eyes, Matt got up from the couch to put their plates away. </p><p> </p><p>“You haven’t changed one bit, Neilio.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?!”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re always fine,” Matt called over his shoulder without further explanation. </p><p> </p><p>(<em>You always lie</em>, was what he really meant).</p><p> </p><p>“Great. Because I <em> am</em>,” Neil said petulantly, deliberately ignoring the churning in his stomach as he sat back. “Thank you. Very cool.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, buddy, it’s all good.” Chuckling softly, his friend came back over to ruffle his hair again. “I’m heading to bed now. I’ve got to get to the clinic early tomorrow and I’m trying not to fall asleep while driving.”</p><p> </p><p>“Please don’t,” Neil said, begrudgingly accepting the hair-ruffle. “Good night.”</p><p> </p><p>“Night, buddy.”</p><p> </p><p>He sat out there for a while longer, making a permanent dent into the couch. Only when the clock clicked, signalling the arrival of midnight, did he sigh and move out of his position. Stretching aching limbs, Neil headed to his own room.</p><p> </p><p>It’d been a month since he’d been awake, but it still was strange to walk back inside. Clearly there was some previous version of <em> Neil Josten </em>that had carved his place into the walls. That version of him had a demisexual pride flag displayed proudly over his bed. That version of him had left ratty and fading stickers all over his mirror. That version of him had his old textbooks still piled up on the corner of his desk, like he’d never had the heart to toss him out.</p><p> </p><p>Now, it was like walking into someone else’s home.</p><p> </p><p>Neil didn’t belong here. He didn’t belong in this apartment, in this room, in this body. The ugly mark on his throat was just one other thing making him sure of it.</p><p> </p><p><em> This isn’t you</em>. <em> This isn’t your place</em>. The words hissed in his head like bumps in the night, noises that kept him up long after the sun disappeared. They weren’t monsters under the bed, they lived and breathed with every step he took.</p><p> </p><p>Blinking rapidly, Neil shook his head, like that would miraculously dislodge something. </p><p> </p><p>(It didn’t).</p><p> </p><p>Trudging over to his bed, he tucked himself beneath the blankets. Neil laid still until the cool sheets beneath him warmed to his touch - unsurprisingly, he didn’t really register it at all - before turning over onto his back. </p><p> </p><p>His mind, treacherous creature that it was, kept wandering. Stumbling through corridors he couldn’t remember and tripping over memories that had fallen behind. </p><p> </p><p>Neil found himself returning to the video Matt had shown him.</p><p> </p><p>It shouldn’t have been anything special. Neil admitted he zoned out for more of the video than he’d paid attention to it. Really, it was just two friends staying overnight at some haunted house and latching onto some figment of the past through patchwork radios and flashlights.</p><p> </p><p>Yet -</p><p> </p><p>Something didn’t feel right.</p><p> </p><p>Something felt too - </p><p> </p><p>Familiar.</p><p> </p><p>There was a man with an ax and a cleaver that called himself the Butcher. That man killed his wife and his son, dismembered their bodies and left them to rot.</p><p> </p><p>Neil shut his eyes against the dark fingers of his own nightmares threatening to crawl out the attic.</p><p> </p><p>A man with a cleaver. A throat slit. </p><p> </p><p>It could’ve been purely coincidental, Neil tried telling himself. It didn’t have to mean anything.</p><p> </p><p>It was harder to believe that when he jerked awake only an hour later, echoes of a man’s crazed laughter and a haunting, whispered rhyme ringing in his ears.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Matt usually worked at his clinic until the evening. He didn’t have to stay the whole time, considering he’d <em> founded </em>the entire thing, but he liked to stay as long as his employees and coaches did anyway.</p><p> </p><p>Because he was just nice like that.</p><p> </p><p>Neil pushed open the glass doors, standing awkwardly to the side as a couple moved past him. The center was a large boxing ring, but different rooms for private coaching lessons branched out from the main area. He didn’t have to wait long until someone came barreling toward him.</p><p> </p><p>“Neilio!” Matt exclaimed, throwing his arms around him. Neil grumbled and reached up, patting Matt’s cheek. He was way too tall for his own good.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Matt.”</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, his arms fell away, and Neil found himself on the receiving end of a very concerned glare. </p><p> </p><p>“What’re you doing here?” Matt demanded. “Are you feeling sick? Do you need anything? I can take the day off if - ”</p><p> </p><p>“Matt, you have your own life outside of being my friend. What, I can’t see you for a change?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, no, but you also shouldn’t be wandering around this early.”</p><p> </p><p>Neil frowned and opened his mouth, only to snap it shut before he could say anything else. </p><p> </p><p>The truth was, he didn’t want to be alone in the apartment. </p><p> </p><p>Because the nightmare he’d had that night - it felt way too real. Neil swore he’d woken up with cold steel pressed against his throat, moving to and fro with his shallow, panicked breathing.</p><p> </p><p>(He thought he could still feel it, even right then.</p><p> </p><p>Pressing, holding, <em> waiting</em>).</p><p> </p><p>“I -” Clearing his throat, Neil looked away. He opted for a lie that would make him seem less pathetic. “I was bored.”</p><p> </p><p>Matt didn’t look like he believed him for one second, but he didn’t protest. </p><p> </p><p>“How about I show you around?” he offered instead.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” </p><p> </p><p>With a bright sunshine grin, Matt took his hand and led him down the cool hallways. He spoke smoothly and introduced Neil to a couple trainers they ran into along the way, but Neil couldn’t really register much of it. He was adrift in a sea he didn’t know, one of shadowy nightmares and strange marks on the throat and ghosts that felt too real - </p><p> </p><p>And Matt was the only thing keeping him afloat. </p><p> </p><p>With a sickening twist in his chest, he began to realize, as Matt kept pointing out all his gym’s accolades and accomplishments - </p><p> </p><p>It didn’t matter if he didn’t remember who he was. </p><p> </p><p>There was nothing good enough Neil could have done to ever deserve this. Matt’s kindness, the warmth of his fingers against Neil’s, the bedroom that used to be his.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t deserve any of it.</p><p> </p><p>(And the fact that he was burdened by some tragedy he couldn’t even <em> name </em> - </p><p> </p><p>Well, that was just the icing on the cake of Neil’s very miserable, apparently short-but-not-yet-ended life).</p><p> </p><p>“ - here already,” his friend was saying when Neil zoned back in, throat tight and aching. “There’s a new diner that just opened down the street. We could go get lunch there.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure,” Neil said after a long silence.</p><p> </p><p>A hand came up to ruffle his hair, and Matt led him back into the main gym.</p><p> </p><p>“Now you can sit still, look pretty, and watch me show these punching bags who’s boss.”</p><p> </p><p>Neil nodded, an absent smile twitching on his lips. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Neil found himself returning to the godforsaken video again.</p><p> </p><p>It’d been a week since Matt had shown it to him, and the nightmares had only gotten worse. Most nights Neil didn’t even bother sleeping, opting for daytime naps around the apartment when Matt was at work, only vaguely comforted by the fact that his screaming wouldn’t be able to wake anybody else up. </p><p> </p><p>It was the same thing, over and over again. A man with a cleaver, eyes glinting menacingly in the dark, a faceless boy cut down in half. </p><p> </p><p>Head muddled and eyes blurring, Neil kept rewinding the video. Kevin Day’s voice overlapped with the obnoxious pulsing of a spirit box, Andrew Minyard shined a light on a basement wall scribbled over in tasteless poetry. He’d practically memorized it by then, the case and the horrors and the banter. </p><p> </p><p>He’d memorized it, but still had no answers.</p><p> </p><p>Neil didn’t even know what questions he was supposed to ask.</p><p> </p><p>Rolling over onto his back, he glared at his walls. He reached out and traced a finger over the smooth silk of the pride flag dangling over his pillow, nails snagging onto the fabric.</p><p> </p><p>The <em> old </em> Neil Josten would’ve loved the flag, he thought bitterly. The <em> old </em>Neil Josten would’ve had some sentimental story tying him to the colors, some connection that made his eyes tingle and heart sing every time he looked at it.</p><p> </p><p>Now, Neil just stared at it and felt empty.</p><p> </p><p>Living in a stranger’s home was awfully lonely. </p><p> </p><p>And Neil was sick of it.</p><p> </p><p>(Something thumped in the night. Was it a memory, rattling around in his skull? </p><p> </p><p>Or was it the one ghost in the world that had been proven to be real?)</p><p> </p><p>He glanced at the faces on his screen again, pausing on the introduction frame. He scrolled down to the comments, most of them just repeating something Andrew or Kevin had said in the video. </p><p> </p><p>He only stopped when his eyes caught onto a name.</p><p> </p><p><em> Rest in peace, Nathaniel</em>.</p><p> </p><p>An idea was brewing like a storm, in the back of his head. Neil was sure it was a horrible idea. But it was an idea nonetheless, and Matt wasn’t there to talk him out of it.</p><p> </p><p>He played the video again.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Fuck you</em>,” the voice on the radio said in response. Neil wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t help but smirk emptily. His fingers came up to rub absently at the mark on his neck, pressing in every now and then.</p><p> </p><p>That ghost had the right idea too.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>up next: neil hatches a plan. unfortunately for matt, it involves a lot of namedropping</p><p>neil is proudly demisexual and i aint letting you forget</p><p>yes this chapter was unedited and yes the ending sucked no i'm not taking criticism hope you liked it &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed and want to see more!!</p><p>and just to be clear: nathaniel wesninski is dead. neil josten is not. just remember that! :) the reasons behind this will get clear later (hopefully, i'm flying by the seat of my pants with this one)</p><p>i'm also just gonna say this up front - i am quite busy with school. i have other fic projects as well. i definitely want to see this fic through and finish it, but in the event of long periods of absence, i'm letting you know right now i am planning on finishing this :) hope yall liked this, and more to come!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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